by Jc Emery
Whore.
“Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” Being a woman, I already know the reason. We’re territorial creatures and we don’t like to lose a man to another woman. The only thing I can’t figure out is if she lost Grady to me or if I’m losing him to her.
“Wow, you’re slow. Grady is a particular man. He likes his women separate from his club,” Elle says. Her eyes lift over my shoulder and a devious smirk spreads across her face. I sense his approach before I see him. Elle is far too pleased with herself for it to be anybody else. I pull in a deep breath and do the best I can to stay strong in the face of this stupid drama of my own making.
“Hey,” he says from behind me. I turn around and come face to face with not only Grady, but four other club members as well. Ian, the guy who was with him when he rescued Mindy and I from that seawall is there, standing to his left. To his right is a huge bulking man with shoulder-length light brown hair, a strong brow, and a full beard. His leather vest has a patch that reads, V. PRESIDENT. Behind him and off to the side is a man with a shaved head and off to the other side is Josh Wilcox.
The smile on Grady’s face nearly splits in two as he lunges forward, wraps me in his arms and pulls me tight against him. Everything around me fades away and it’s just he and I. Elle, a woman who I don’t even know but surely dislike already, isn’t behind me. The loud music fades away as I bury my face in his neck. Breathing in the mixed scent of his sweat and the whiskey he’s obviously been drinking. I love this man, but he’s kind of a grouch. The only times I’ve seen him this happy are when he’s either three sheets to the wind or he’s scaring the crap out of Jeremy. Even when his muscles tense and he’s losing himself inside of me, he doesn’t look this happy.
“What are you doing here?” he says as he pulls back and cups my face with his hands. His warm, whiskey-laden breath washes over my face. His eyes are slightly unfocused and that stupid grin is still on his face. I give him a small smile in return. It's the best that I can manage right now.
"Can we talk?"
Josh comes around the side, let's the bottle of beer to his lips and knocks it back. He gives a disapproving shake of his head and walks away. Though Grady doesn't seem to be mad at me for showing up here, I'm guessing with this Rig guy just getting into town, the boys want to party, and even I can admit to any time a woman says she wants to talk, it's almost never a good thing.
Without another word, Grady leads me through the crowded, smoke-filled room, and down a long hallway. Double wooden doors with a fine inlay are at the very end of the hall. I've only heard a little bit about how the club works because I don't really ask many questions, but whatever is beyond those doors must be important. All of the other doors for hallway are basic would without any frills. The way I figure it is that what I need to know Grady will tell me and then everything else is not my business. I didn't get with Grady because of the bike he rides, or the leather on his shoulders – if anything, I got with him in spite of those things. Maybe one day I will be more interested in the way the club works, but for now I'm just trying to figure out how Grady works. Still, there are a few things I would like answers to. And I know I need to ask, even if I'm terrified of the answer.
Grady holds the door open for me. I step into the room and immediately feel unsettled. There's a queen-size bed in the corner of the room with two wooden chairs and a table on the other side. On top of the table is Grady's aftershave and deodorant. I recognize that they are the same brands and scents from his bathroom at home, so I can only assume they belong to him. As the Sergeant of Arms, I’m guessing this room is his. Why he would need a room here, I don’t even want to imagine. But I can’t help thinking about it. Wives and girlfriends don’t belong here. This place is only for the whores.
The door clicks shut behind me and finally, we are alone. He closes in and grabs me by my waist. His large hands knead at my supple curves. All of the tension, frustration, and fear start to dissipate. It's always like this when he's touching me. His right hand reaches around and unbuttons my jeans. He drags the zipper down slowly and slips his pointer finger into my panties. With light pressure, he rubs my center and creates a firestorm of need almost instantly. Falling into him and his touch is almost glorious. He consumes me in ways I almost fear and have trouble reasoning, but I welcome it. I welcome the slow build of tension in my belly and thighs. I welcome the strained, panty breaths and the way my fingers twitch as he applies more pressure.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he says and bucks his hips into my back. He’s already hard and I know that unless I put up a big fight we’re going to end up naked and breathless and totally lost in each other’s bodies. Jeremy’s cut, blackmailing Mr. Beck, and the secret party I wasn’t supposed to know about are all reasons I shouldn’t be giving in to him. But I do. I let him greedily dip his fingers into my swelling pussy. I don’t object to the rough thrusts of his fingers as he penetrates me. My skin erupts into a million tiny bumps just seconds before my limbs lock in place and every part of me goes numb except for my core. It’s there, at my center, that I feel everything. Every drag of his finger tips along my sensitive walls. Every ragged breath on my neck. Every shaky movement of his thumb at my clit. And I know it’s only a few seconds, but it feels like forever that I’m lost in that place between being alive and dead.
I want this with him more than I want anything else. I used to want to make my parents proud, and I wanted to get my life on track. I wanted to make something of myself. But with Grady, all I want is to exist. With him, I’m okay just being; content to live in the moment and not worry about what the world thinks and whether or not anyone thinks I’m a failure. Because if this man can love me as I am, then I’m determined to love myself as I am and not as I think I should be. I want a life with him and all that means. I want the chaos and the smart mouth teenager who I adore. I want his baggage and his hopes and dreams. I want his future and I want a little person that looks just like him and has a temper to match. I want sleepless nights and that permanent connection of sharing a child. I want him— all of him— and I want to give him all of me.
When I come back down, I’m panting like I’ve just run a race. I love it when he brings me to the edge quickly. It’s like being hit by a truck at high speeds. It happens so fast I almost don’t see it coming, but then it’s on me and the world melts away. He throws me off balance in a way I’m never prepared for.
But I came here pissed off for a reason. Not being told about the party, not being told about Jeremy prospecting for the club, and what that means for us are still a problem. If he’s not telling me these things, then what else is he not telling me? I don’t want to fight and I know from experience that we can fight for days. It’s almost never-ending. So instead of pushing him off me, I turn around and take control of the situation. My hands are on his chest as I walk him back to the wall.
“Why am I not supposed to be here?” I ask. I drag my hands slowly down his worn tee shirt beneath his cut and then let them dip to his belt where I work to undress him.
“Jeremy tell you I was here?” he asks. Through the whiskey fog he’s in, he seems to be taking my surprise arrival better than I expect he would have had he been sober.
“Why aren’t you answering my question?” I say. “Is there a reason you hid this from me?”
He reaches up and unbuttons my top slowly, but his eyes don’t leave mine.
“I got brothers doing shit in this place that I didn’t want you to see. Married men fucking two whores at a time, sadistic fuckers who get off having their dick sucked in front of their brothers. It’s crowded, not just my brothers here tonight, but a whole mess of guys from around here— some of them I don’t know, some of them I do— but I don’t trust any of them to treat you like they should.”
His honesty takes me aback. I expected some kind of macho shit about having a boys night and me minding my own business, but not this. He finishes with the last button and licks his lips at the sigh
t of my breasts straining against the fabric of my bra.
“Because I’m your girlfriend?”
“No, Sweets,” he says on a whisper. Chills run up my spine by the intensity of his gaze. “I’m too old to have a girlfriend, but you belong to me.”
“I’m not an Old Lady,” I say. “I have to be voted in for that. I know that might not happen.”
“My brothers are going to like you. Once shit calms down, they’ll get to know you like I do. They’ll see the man I am because I have you by my side, and they’ll accept you because of that.”
“You belong to me,” I mumble. “I want everything.”
“You have everything,” he says. His hands slide down my sides and pull my jeans down to the floor. He crouches down in front of me, leans in, and places a soft kiss on my hip. Watching him, waiting for him to move next, I realize that for this to work, there can’t be anything between us. I have to tell him what I’ve done. I have to have him know everything I’m feeling and why it’s important to me that he be honest and communicative.
“I want more,” I say. He drags his stumbled jaw over my lower belly and places a kiss to my navel.
“What more could you possibly want?” Grady lifts my right leg out of my jeans and then my left. His fingers hook around the sides of my panties and he drags them down to the floor. I crouch down in front of him and get on my knees. For a moment, we just stare at one another. No matter what comes out of his mouth, I know the truth in his eyes. He’ll give me this, what I’m about to ask. He loves me and we’re solid. He isn’t like other men I’ve dated. Grady doesn’t fear what we have and he doesn’t reject it.
“I want permanency. I want a piece of you. I want to consume you the way you consume me,” I say. I slide my top off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind me. I reach up and remove Grady’s vest and gently place it on the bed beside us. Next is his shirt, and then I finish with his belt and let them both fall to the floor.
“I won’t make you a widow,” he says with pain in his eyes. He gives me a slight shake of his head as his hands come up to cup my face. “The shit I told you about Mancuso—that a business deal went bad—it was bullshit. The closest thing I ever had to a father died a few months ago. He was shot in the chest by one of Mancuso’s guys. There is a very real possibility that more of us will die before this is over. I won’t promise you forever when I can’t even guarantee you a year.”
“Why is this happening?” I ask, barely able to control the shake in my voice. I should have known there was more to it when that guy showed up at the school, and I should have run for the hills when he so politely left me and Mindy on a seawall. If I was smart, I would have kept my distance. But I’m not smart and I signed up for this—with him—no matter what it brings. I can’t run away now no matter how much it’s scaring me because the only thing scarier than staying amid the chaos is to leave and wade through the broken pieces of my soul.
“Because a man stole a woman’s children and thought he would never answer for that.”
“You make no sense,” I say quietly. Club business is something I’ve avoided, and honestly, would rather to keep avoiding. But his talking right now is important. He’s giving me a piece of himself that doesn’t fully belong to him—it belongs to all of them—and I’m going to be strong enough to help him shoulder the burden of his secrets.
“Mancuso’s guy takes Chey, what do you do?” he asks. His face is down-turned and his expression so solemn that it’s almost painful to look at him. He’s imagining losing his daughter to that psychopath in the expensive suit. I want to tell him not to worry, but I can’t. The guy proved that he can get to her and he can get to me. He can get to anybody, I think. None of us are truly safe and if Grady can stay on his game by feeling every ounce of that fear, then his pain has some use.
I’ve known her less than a year, and on a personal level even less than that, but the thought of losing her churns my stomach. She’s funny and smart and the very best of Grady with hints of a woman I’ve never met, but who doesn’t deserve Cheyenne because she’s not here and she doesn’t get to see how awesome her daughter really is. And I kind of hate her for creating that void in Cheyenne’s life.
“He takes Chey, Sweets. What do you do—if I’m not here, what do you do?”
The words come out instantly and without any thought. I’m not sure where they come from. I only know that when I say them, I mean them with every fiber of my being.
“He dies.”
“He dies,” he says with a nod. “How?”
“Any way possible. You won’t lose her. I promise.”
He finishes undressing himself and leans over me. I arch backwards and lay myself gently on the floor as he cradles the back of my head. His lips descend on mine with such passion that I think I might explode from the kiss alone. But then his hands get to work and he brings me back to that place where I’m hanging between being here and being lost in a sea of feeling. I fight the urge to let it overtake me. I want to be here, in the present as I say this.
“Marry me,” I say. It’s not much of a request because I won’t take no for an answer.
“Told you,” he says as he slides into me, igniting delicious sparks of need. A loud groan escapes him as he buries himself to the hilt. “I won’t do that to you.”
“You’ll give me this,” I say in a breathless whisper. “I need this from you—the security—and you’ll give it to me because you know you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong,” he says as he slides out and then back in with a slow, shallow thrust before rearing back and this time impaling me with all his might. My back arches and my legs twitch with the force of him.
“You are,” I say as my jaw shakes and I break out into shivers. We move together slowly, neither of us with any desire to rush this. “Because you’re not going anywhere.”
“You can’t know that,” he says in broken words. He blows out a deep breath and pulls in a shaky one. I lean up and nip at the corner of his mouth. We’re nose to nose with his strong arms supporting my new position. The friction is incredible like this and I wonder why we’d never tried it before. “Chief died.”
“You’re going to marry me and when everything calms down, I’m going to give you a son.”
“You’ll change your mind,” he says as he picks up the pace. His jaw tenses as he gets closer to the edge. I don’t know where the word-vomit came from, but in this moment I want him to know everything about me. I want him to have every hope and dream because he’s clearly worried about what’s going on with the club. I’m not stupid enough to try to dissuade his fears.
“No.” I whimper. “You’re scared.”
“I love you,” he says as he bites his lip to fight back his impending orgasm. He stills and takes a deep breath then moves slowly in and out, in and out. I fall apart around him and a moment later, he loses himself in me as well. I manage to mumble out a pathetic “I love you” as I’m coming down. We lay there like that, connected, for a while. Eventually, he places a kiss to my forehead and says, “You ambushed me with that shit.”
“You’re still going to marry me,” I say as I drag my hands up and down his back.
“Yeah, Sweets,” he says as he kisses me. A drop of sweat falls onto my hairline near my ear. His voice is pained when he says, “I am.”
Chapter 25
“WHY DIDN’T YOU tell me Jeremy’s prospecting for the club?” I ask. We’ve untangled ourselves from one another and we’re dressing. I fix the last of the buttons on my shirt and turn back to Grady who’s shoving his feet into his black motorcycle boots. Aside from the cuts, the boots are the closest thing the club has to a uniform. They all wear them and it’s obvious they’re not a special occasion shoe. Lisa made a joke last week that Grady’s laundry is now my responsibility. I hate to break it to her, but Grady’s laundry is Grady’s responsibility. I don’t care how many other women he has wrapped around his devilishly long, flexible fingers, I’m not doing the man’
s laundry. It goes against everything I believe in.
“Would you have understood?” he asks. “I tell you before I got you hooked that I got a teenager prospecting for my club—how’s that go over?”
Here it is—another indication that he’s scared to tell me things. I want to set the record straight for him—for us—that I’m here and nothing he tells me can make me go away. Pulling a hair tie out of my jeans pocket, I lift my hair into a messy bun on top of my head and secure it as tightly as possible. I close the distance between us and place my hands on his chest. He turns his chin down toward me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
“It doesn’t matter if I like it or not. You can’t hide things from me. You can’t only tell me what you think I can handle. Give me a little bit of credit here, will you? You think I’m stupid enough to believe that you earn a living changing oil and fixing flats? Please, this is my home. I know what the club does, and I know you’re part of every bit of it.”
He turns his face away and stares at the wall over my shoulder. His jaw ticks, and his touch loses that loving softness it had just a moment ago. He lets his arms drop to his sides. He’s noticeably unhappy about my response, but I don’t know why.
“Go ahead,” he says. Looking my way, his face is hard. He’s shutting down emotionally. “Tell me what you think of the club. Tell me we’re criminals, that we’re bastards. Tell me how it feels to fuck an asshole like me. Tell me you like slumming it.”
“Oh, stick a sock in it,” I say in frustration. My face heats, and I tense up all over. I can feel my temper about to rear its ugly head. “You want to know why I didn’t want the money? Because I’ve spent my entire life cutting corners and doing things the easy way.” My voice is louder than I intend for it to be. I’m basically screaming in his face now, but still, he doesn’t react. “My parents don’t approve, neither do Uncle Harry and Aunt Claire. Hell, even when Mindy had a fucking needle in her arm she worried about me making poor choices.”
